At Odds
by jennii.b
Summary: What does it take to love a monster? Set not long after X-Men Origins: Wolverine (major AU-not movie cannon, not comic cannon, just fun!) (T rating forjust-in-cases re. language)
1. the next generation

_**This should probably have been billed as a crossover fic. The idea of immortality tugs at my imagination. There are so many versions of it in fiction today…from enduring youth to wizened agelessness and every shade in between. If your only experience with elves has been Tolkien's take another look…Chris Johnson & Vaughn Heppner might change your take on them a little!**_

_**And a warning: there are references to characters and circumstances in my Logan-centric fic: RENEWALS, but you should be able to spot them. The added knowledge is there if you've read them first, if not it won't stop the progress of this story. Enjoy!**_

… **- - - … - - - … **

"Logan!" Victor called, jogging toward the other man.

He flinched when Logan took a defensive stand.

"I mean no harm, brother," he began, shuffling his feet in the gravel of the parking lot. He looked down, chagrinned.

Logan stepped to him, the sting of the silver claws extending singing in the air.

"Tell me why I shouldn't cut off your head? Carve out your heart?"

"A woman waits for me. She is in the beginnings of labor, so she tells me. She's certain. I need to get back to her."

Logan laughed, taking his stance for attack. "A woman? Because you spared me when I had found mine? Do you think that because I've been in love that I'll forgive you and just let you walk out of here? Forgetting past sins and letting you raise your by-blows to be murdering cowards like yourself? What the hell were you thinking getting a woman pregnant? Have you distanced yourself that much from reality? We are _freaks_, Victor. Doomed not to die."

"She is an immortal as well," Victor told him softly. "A good one. Kind and understanding, but strong. I think you could become fond of her. I'd like my children to know their uncle. It's important."

"You robbed me of the chance to have a normal family."

Victor shook his head. "_I saved your life_."

"You tried to take it! You stole what made me whole!"

"You walked out on me! You turned from what we'd promised-after all those years you turned from what made us different and made us the same and you left me by myself!"

"We are not the same. There is something in you that is not in me."

"I could have killed you. After you'd jumped. When you ran with the woman, when you hid out while she healed you. I could have killed both of you any time."

"Am I to thank you now? The woman I loved is dead because of a plot in which you were central. Can you deny that?"

Victor shook his head.

"But you want to let bygones be bygones now?"

"My son is going to be born tonight. The next generation of our family. I'd like you to be there."

Victor was sincere. Quiet and serious. He didn't beg-he _didn't_ beg. And the humility in his tone allowed his brother the grace to grant his request.

Victor's tires screamed as he rushed back to the house where he'd left Mychal. His heart pounded as he ran through the door. All the lights were on. Dogs barked in kennels. Birds circled agitatedly in the air.

"Mychal!" he bellowed.

"She is not here," a quiet voice told him. A cold, blonde man-his equal in height but slender and reed-like-spoke in a distant tone.

"Where is she?" Victor threatened, his claws coming out.

"Speak more gently, human. Your mate is safe. The babe's time is now and her people came for her. Now, behave yourself or I won't show you the way."

"Oh, you'll show me-"

"Victor!" Logan called.

The elf arched a brow and let out a mocking laugh. "I promised Mychal that I'd see her pet safely down to the lower levels. I didn't realize he'd need a keeper."

Victor wanted to reach out and crush the elf's windpipe.

"I am his brother."

"Very well." The man slid from his seat on the counter and stepped toward the back of the house. "The night gets on. Can you run?"

Victor looked at Logan. Both men nodded, their gazes locked.


	2. my mate

It was a long, hard run. Well past the time when the thin woods surrounding the house should have given way to civilization they still ran hard and fast. The elf before them was light on his feet, nimble and quick. Victor would have surpassed his speed if only he'd known what led them onward. Finally they came to a doorway, carved into a stone wall.

"Down," the elf called, opening it and stepping through. When Victor followed he found himself falling several stories to land in a crouch. He leapt to follow the stranger even as Logan halted beside him.

"Not much further now," an elf-this one even fairer than the first-assured him.

"Thank you," Victor managed. Logan was silent.

Something called to Victor in the ancient tunnels and he soon took the lead. Logan heard the first cry as he reached to stop Victor from shoving past other denizens of the underground complex.

"Mychal," Victor panted, taking off down a series of hallways to come to a stumbling halt just inside a large chamber.

"_Victor_!" Mychal's laugh was tempered by the tears that streamed down her face. She was in a bed-a bed designed for this very purpose-and her stomach seemed huge and overly distended to the man who loved her.

"Why did you leave?" he demanded. He immediately changed his complaint. "Why did you let _me_ leave?"

"I thought I had more time. I-"

Logan watched as Victor bent his head to kiss her mouth. His hands closed around the fists she held rigidly at her waist.

"Would you rather be at a hospital?" Victor asked.

Mychal smiled and shook her head. "This is your brother?"

Victor nodded, gesturing to Logan. "This is my brother. He's piqued at the timing of our reconciliation."

"This expression," Mychal asked. "This is reconciliation?"

Logan had to smile at her. She was dark-far darker than he'd expected. The elves in the room he divided into three distinct races. The fair-haired seemed most magically elvish. They had the moon-colored skin and flaxen hair and pointed ears. Another few seemed like brunette versions of the same. Perhaps a bit shorter, but just as fair-skinned with incredibly straight black hair. Their features were human and he decided that this was the group Loden belonged with. Mychal was even earthier if that was possible. Her skin seemed tanner, more golden. Hair a soft brown but still straight as rain. Eyes a green he could distinguish even in the dim firelight.

"No. I suppose not. But I'm here."

"Good. Go sit over there while I use your brother."

Logan grinned to himself as he found a vacant chair. Women laughed and chided and offered refreshments.

"You've made use of the human's brother already as best I can tell," one old woman cackled.

"No nearly so much as I intend," Mychal shot back. Logan could see her clench as a pain wracked her body.

Victor's eyes became round. He panted, obviously uncomfortable.

"Don't change," Mychal ground through her teeth.

"I don't know what to do," Victor told her.

"Sweet man, you do nothing. You wait until you are told and then you may hold your child. Has Mychal determined the sex of the new baby?"

"She says it is to be a boy," a new voice said.

"Father!"

"Mychal," he nodded. "Victor."

"Maurick. I'd say it's nice to see you, but..." Victor gestured toward the woman on the bed with his chin.

"I know. My greatest comfort is knowing that my child will outlive you, mortal. And that I can enjoy my grandchild in peace once you're gone."

"I'm not a mortal," Victor reminded him.

"Pity. I didn't realize."  
Logan had to laugh.

"So what are you, exactly?"

"I'm a beast, wise one. A killing machine. Something your people should remember as they tend my mate and my cub."


	3. beasts

Maurick snorted delicately. "Mychal's always had a soft place in her heart for animals."

"Could you two not just shut up for a while?" the elvish princess spat out.

"I believe it is time," an older woman said softly. "My lord, if you would help her up a bit."

Victor moved to help Mychal sit up. "What now?"

"Now she pushes. Don't listen to her words. Just keep near her so that she can squeeze your hand or hold onto your arm."

Victor offered his hands, fingers outspread and palms up. Mychal shook her head. "Not like that," she gasped.

"Exactly like this," Victor argued. He clutched at her elbows as the scream built inside her. Her own nails drove into her palms as she strained her body to produce life.

Another followed, then another.

"Mychal! Mychal!" Victor shouted. He scrabbled with her, fighting for her hands. Mychal jerked, trying to keep him from opening her fingers. Logan got up to try to help her. Before he could stop his brother Victor had one hand pinned down and slammed his palm against the woman's, his fully extended claws tearing through the sheets and mattress to lock her hand at her side. The other hand captured her free hand and did the same. Only the fact that Mychal seemed instantly easier saved the man from annihilation. Her head came forward and she rested her brow against his.

"Victor," she called softly.

"I have you," he told her.

She bit her lip as another pain built. Now her sweaty brow slipped, bracing hard against his shoulder. And every being in the room saw his body tense like a bow as the contraction built. Hours they watched them, the two linked and oblivious to the rest of the world. Mychal's sole focus was bringing the child into being. Victor's sole focus was Mychal. The baby's cry tore the air before either could relax a muscle.

"_Oh, God..."_ Victor exhaled. Their stance broke and Mychal sank back against the pillows. Victor kept her hands, turning them so that he could kiss the knuckles, gathering them beneath his brow as he lowered his head to her abdomen. His body shook as tears fell to the soft cloth covering her.

"_Shhh,_" she whispered. "I've got you," she promised. He nodded as she freed one hand to stroke his head and neck and shoulder. "Look, Victor," she murmured to him. "Your son. Did I not tell you? He's beautiful."

Victor raised his head. He'd seen babies. All sorts of babies. Disgusting and disturbing and helpless little buggers for the most part. "Huh," he grunted.

Maurick offered the child first to Logan. Logan, in his complete surprise, took the child. He was angry, his little legs and arms drawing close only to fling out in his disgust at the world. He'd uttered his first cries, then settled down to hiss his displeasure in short little gasps of sound. More like a mewling kitten than a ferocious beast.

"You have a son," Logan told Victor, scooting forward on the chair so that his brother could see the creature in his arms. Rising, he offered the bundle to his mother, who took him lovingly and confidently.

Victor's eyes held his wonder. "Look what you did," he breathed to Mychal.


	4. moonsong

She laughed, running her fingers over the child before tucking the blanket around his tiny body. She trapped the bony arms and legs and cooed to him. "Show me, little one. Tell me how we've wronged you so late at night when you want sleep."

Logan laughed as the small infant yawned hugely.

Mychal's eyebrows rose. Her fingertip traced the shape of the bowed mouth, slipped inside to feel the knobby gums.

"Show me your teeth," she ordered Victor, looking up to meet his gaze.

It was amazing to watch his brother obey immediately, pulling back his gums to reveal canines and incisors most usually found on wild animals. Just as it was amazing to watch the woman in the bed reach out to caress the overgrown eyetooth, then run a light fingertip over his brother's upper gum line. Victor ended the touch with a kiss, lightly sucking the pad of the finger before pulling back. His own hands were running over the child's now-covered legs and arms.

"He'll have your teeth, I think," Mychal declared.

"He'll have two rows of normal, even teeth," Maurick objected. Mychal stuck her tongue out at her father.

"He'll have Victor's teeth. And perhaps his gifts."

"You've been alive only a few decades. What could you possibly know?" her father shot back.

"More than you've forgotten in two thousand years. Go away or come join in baby worship. But don't stand there and argue with everyone." She turned brightly to Logan. "What do you think?"

Logan shrugged. "I've never spent a great deal of time rubbing Victor's gums. I think you're probably the best judge of that."

Victor laughed. "He's a smart little bugger. Look at how his eyes follow our words. He knows who's speaking and is trying to focus on them."

Logan's face fell. "Is something wrong with his eyes?"

"All newborns can see is about eighteen inches. Just enough to see the face of the person holding them. But supposedly they hear and smell exceptionally well. I expect our children will be even more able to hear and scent their worlds."

Logan met Victor's stare and his eyes were hard. He'd have loved to father a child with Ana. He'd kept himself from doing so, however, because of his immortality. His brother had fallen in love with a faerie and now had all he'd ever hoped for-none of which were things the old Victor had desired for himself.

"I hate you," Logan whispered.

Victor nodded, dropping his eyes. "I understand."

"How can so much love and so much hate be inside one man for another?"

Victor shook his head. "I have no explanations for you. And I won't apologize. Where does that leave us?"

Logan jerked his chin toward the woman watching them. "You have everything. I am empty." He rose to leave.

"Logan-" Mychal called.

He turned, his face gentler. "I cannot stay, pretty witch. I wish you the best of luck-with both of them. And as many more as will make you happy. I will see you soon. I'll bring presents. But tonight I need the moon."

"See to your needs, Wolverine. And remember the difference between the white loden stone and the trickster that would lead you astray. The one forgives us and bathes us in newness and understanding. She makes us clean. The other weaves tangled webs-until even the moon is not sure where her face should turn. Be wary, but make your way topside so that you can bay your soul into forgetfulness."

"What?"

"You heard me, master. Go, now. Find your solace and your freedom."

"What did you call the moon?"

"White loden stone. It is an old relic in our culture. The tables and altars we built must be of white loden stone. It is sturdy and lasting and yet so easily mistaken for what covers it. recognizing it is said to be a great talent."

"You know the story of Keukuatsheu?"

She shrugged. "I am a wildlife reservist. I know lots of Indian tales from all over the globe. Some I like better than others."

"Goodnight, Mychal."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Logan."

He nodded. "Victor."


	5. escape

In the dawn's light Logan found himself still kneeling outside the stone wall, sunk onto his knees for longer a space of time than he had memory for. Stiffly, hearing the sounds of approaching footsteps, he rose again.

"What do you seek, man?" a cold voice asked him.

"I was just..." Logan gestured absently to the doorway behind him.

"Have you escaped us, then?"

He shook his head. "My brother's wife-their baby was born last night. I watched with them. Held him in my own arms."

The man laughed at the pale, pale woman as Logan held his hands out in front of him as looked at them as though he'd never seen them before.

"Your first birthing?" the she-elf guessed.

"My first anything," he muttered. He blew out his cheeks and met her eyes.

She reached out to pet him. "Our race does things differently...still..." she smiled. "Go get some sleep. Then, when you come back, bring gifts."

"What do you get an elf who's given birth to something that might be half-savage?"

"I imagine, knowing Jamychal, that she'd prefer something modern. Blankets or bibs or some electric toy or convenience. She greatly loves her modern kitchen."

"I disagree," the man snorted. "She's a whimsical little thing-flighty. Bring her something romantic, not something practical at all. She loves her trinkets and reminders. Constantly she tucks flowers into her mate's buttonholes and he behind her ear or-"

Logan snorted. "Victor?"

Fallon smiled and nodded. "It's funny, isn't it? To think of a man as big and rough as he falling so hard for one whose mission is peace and sanctuary."

His friend argued this time. "Jamychal loves all creatures. Why shouldn't she choose the biggest of them all for her life's partner."

"How will I get back?" Logan asked. "I know these woods well enough to know that were we stand now there is no forest, there is no path, and there is no wall."

Fallon smirked. "The human knows so much," he teased. When he looked at the man in front of him he nodded sharply. "My sister will not stay long in my father's realm. She never has been able to stand being underground. If she makes it until breakfast it'll be a small miracle."

"Breakfast is soon upon us."

"I imagine she'll wash and then, as soon as the babe's fed, coerce her mate to help her leave."

"How will she get up here? That is quite a leap for a woman recuperating from such an ordeal."

"Leave that to us, Master. Take some rest and when you return meet us at the house in the clearing."


	6. visitors

Logan did as recommended, showering away the bitterness of the night's cold and the ground's hardness. The things he thought he'd heard and didn't understand were tucked to the back of his consciousness for the time being. Then he gathered what he wanted from the house and went shopping.

When he knocked quietly on the carven door he got no response. The flowers and wrapped packages he left on the table while he peeked through the house. Fallon was in the living room, tending a small flame. He rose, then beckoned for Logan to follow him. The sound of Victor's snoring had Logan smiling before he poked his head into the master bedroom. His brother lay sprawled on his belly across the foot of the bed. He still wore his clothes from the night before although the almost uniform overcoat had been slung to the ground. His hand trailed onto the side of a wooden cradle in which there was a small bundle wrapped in deepest royal blue. Mychal was curled beneath a soft crocheted wrap, her head on the pillows, both hands tucked beneath her cheek.

Fallon looked at the man he guessed should be termed his brother in law and smiled broadly. He wiggled his fingers and some small movement drew Logan's attention in the corner of the room.

He had to laugh at the response from the bed. Victor simultaneously reached out to pat Mychal's ankle and to rock the cradle gently.

"It's all right. I'm here," he murmured in his sleep.

Both of the bachelors slipped down the hall to hide their chuckles.

"The last time I did it Jamychal kicked him and told him to hush," Fallon bragged.

Logan shook his head. "So you're just screwing with my brother, is that it? How _old_ are you?"

Fallon nodded eagerly. "I'm getting close to number three hundred now. And I think he deserves it-my sister's only thirty and he's got her shacked up and saddled down like an old woman."

"She seems to like it."

"That's entirely beside the point."

Logan agreed. Prime agitation was prime agitation. "Have they actually gotten married or do elves marry?"

"Oh, we marry, mortal. My father's head's been spinning around on that one since Mychal moved Victor in here. She calls him Sabre sometimes. Does that name mean anything to you?"

Logan shook his head. "I wouldn't make a joke out of it. Victor's humor isn't his most becoming trait."

"But you'll let me know when you figure out what is, right? Because so far I'm coming up with zip in that category."

"I'd think it was his loyalty." Logan's tone brooked no argument, showed no amusement.

Fallon sobered immediately. "I'm sorry. I've offended you. I meant only to-I don't know. I felt a kinship and forgot that he was your brother. I do like him-well enough, I guess. I know he'd give every breath of life in him to my sister. He threatened to skin me alive once when I'd vexed her. It seems my humor is best served in small doses around him."

"I'd keep them small, then."

Fallon put out his hand. "Will you stay awhile? Watch over them? I know she's got Victor, but I...there will be others coming to peek at the child and they're so tired today and..."

"I'll take a spell," Logan promised. "I won't leave them to fend off well-wishers in their current state."

"Good. No joke, in his current state Victor's liable to take the well-meaning and shove them clear off the cliff. Plus there's all the damn orphans and rejects in her kennels there. I've fed them all and seen to them as best I can. When she gets up she can tell us better how to help. Although, for all I care, they, too, can sail off the cliff."


	7. gifts

"Speaking of the cliff," Logan began, walking the elf to the door. "What will they do about the child when he starts moving around?"

Fallon shrugged. "I guess she's going to have to give in and put up a fence, even if it's just a small area off the kitchen perhaps."

"Do you think she'd want something of split logs-following the rustic lines of the house itself? I'm good with wood. Good with my hands."

"Ask her. For damn certain lining an area out in pretty stones and seashells isn't going to keep a young boy safe."

"I'll do that. See you 'round."

"My thanks, human. The beer in the fridge is cold and it's mine if you find yourself parched. The milk came from a goat-I don't know if you'll like it, but tell Jamychal it's fresh. That was Cledda's offering. That and a necklace so that Jamychal can hang gemstones from to mark her child's anniversaries. The first charm she made jet black. It's beautiful. And probably worth as much as the damn Smithsonian. But Jamychal will wear it day in and day out to remind her of your brother's love." He shook his head.

"You envy them."  
"Of course I envy them. What sane person wouldn't? He doesn't care that her ears come to a point and she's of a race that thinks it knows everything. And she doesn't care that he's a murdering bastard who runs ops the government doesn't want to know it's funding. Complete acceptance, true and lasting love, and apparently they linked last night in a way that's driving my father crazy. _Victor_ linked with _Jamychal_. Not her sharing of herself, him truly joining in her being. Yeah, I'm jealous. I'm jealous as hell. But I don't begrudge them. I've found it a waste of time. I've never gotten anything good from wishing someone else didn't have it. And I've never gotten any solace in wishing bad on them that takes what I have. So I'll just keep looking for the end of the rainbow."

"Go on," Logan laughed.

"No, no! There's a little red-headed elfkin with an Irish accent who sells breakfast cereal on the very premise! It _must_ be true if it sells cereal to little children!"


	8. wakenings

When Victor woke up Logan was sitting in the rocker on the porch, a pile of wood shavings at his feet and the shapes of the runners of a rocking horse forming in his hands.

"What are you doing?"

Logan looked up. "Making your son a toy. I can't decide if it'll be a genuine rocking horse. I may make a zebra or unicorn or hippo instead. I'll ask Mychal what she wants before I start on a full-sized version for him."

Victor watched as he set the partially carved block of wood on the railing and set it in motion. No hitches, no limitations-it could become anything.

"Make it an eagle. That's what I see when I look at him. An eagle-fierce and free."

"I saw a lion-same goes," Logan told him without looking up. "I bought him a griffin. It's platinum, so it'll last through teething and everything else if Jamychal wants to give it to him to play with. Or else she can put it up somewhere." He turned and met his brother's eyes. "I thought I'd get him another in a year. And every year after that. Something solid and lasting to mark the day."

Victor nodded, his face still lax with sleep and so much emotion. "I thank you for that. For this-"

"Someone left a pile of presents on the table," Mychal called from inside. "And my child thinks that I should get to open them since I'm the one with the birth canal. Victor? Can you hear me?"

Victor turned, gesturing for his brother to precede him into the house.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Maybe you were discussing something more weighty than which gift to open first."

"I've already seen one. Stay off the porch until I tell you to," Victor ordered. She shrugged, then shifted the child in her arms. He walked over and trailed a hand over the soft features. "Are you cold? Is he hungry? Wet?"

Mychal shook her head, hair falling everywhere. "I caught him before he howled at me again. Now he's ready to be part of the family for a while."

"I'll hold him. You sit down."

Logan watched his massive, maniacal brother ease the child into the crook of his arm and murmur soft words that way while he got down a pot and filled it with water. Next he measured out some kind of grain before leaning back against the counter to watch his mate.

"Someone named Cledda left goat's milk in your refrigerator," he offered.

"Perfect," both the man and woman hummed.

"That was thoughtful of her," Mychal added. "Have you eaten?"

"I'm making plenty. Your family's bound to descend soon, too," Victor growled.

"They'll behave. Just don't give up the baby."

She oohed and ahed over the things Logan had brought. A teething ring. A set of bibs with funny froggies and dancing bugs on them. A hobby horse, though the boy would have to grow into it. A memory album for Jamychal, with a sprig of pine already being pressed between the heavy pages to mark nature's awareness of the event. An eternity watch for Victor. He'd set the time on the miniscule mini face inside the larger one to the exact moment of his brother's child's birth.

"I thought it would make a good keepsake for you."

Victor nodded, not looking up, as Mychal fastened it around his wrist.

"It's waterproof," she whispered as she reached to cup his cheeks. Logan realized when she wiped her hands on her hips that his brother was moved by the gift, not simply being reticent. "Your son sleeps, Victor. Put him down and join us at the table."


	9. family

Silent still, Victor nodded again, turning away to tuck the baby into a basket already filled with soft blankets. He reached for a beer and the earthenware pitcher while Mychal handed Logan bowls of the steaming hot cereal.

"There's raw sugar on the turnstile. Victor likes his with an egg stirred into it, peppered to within an inch of its life. I like mine plain and sweet."

"What is it?" he asked suspiciously, taking a sniff for good measure. It cost him a snort of derision from his brother, who was cracking the egg into his bowl to cook in the heat of the grain itself. He did take a good bit of pepper in his. As it was a morning for celebrations he added a handful of cheese and some Tabasco.

"It's kind of like a cross between barley and grits," he told the younger man.

"And you eat it a lot?"

Victor nodded. "Nearly every morning."

"It's good, Logan. And nutritious. Cut some fruit into it and eat."

"Yes, ma'am." Who was he to argue with someone that even Victor obeyed?

"Victor, get your brother a beer, too. Or make him some coffee, but stop hulking over there like you're afraid to sit down with him."

They tucked in, a casual silence falling as they ate. Victor poured some of his drink into a smooth-sided glass for Mychal. It seemed like a hell of a thing to have for breakfast, but as he ate the new food-doctored as his brother's had been-he could appreciate the sharpness of the brew with the heavy earthiness of the dish. Both Mychal and Victor had poured the goat milk over theirs, something he was passing on for now.

"It's better with sausage," Victor told him as he stood to refill his bowl. "I'm not frying sausage today, though. We may be eating the yandru morning, noon and night for a few days. Grend's done nothing but cry."

"Grend?"

"Grend Harrant Creed."

Logan nodded. It was a strange name.

"That is a stupid name," Maurick called as he swept into the room.

"Jesus," Mychal complained. "Knock next time. We could have been doing anything!" "You will not be doing anything for at least a few more days. Do you hear me, Victor? I know _she_ doesn't listen. Do you?"

"I hear everything you say to me," Victor challenged. Logan could see his face tighten as the other man bent to the cradle. He was proud that his brother contained the growl that went with the scowl on his face when the older man lifted the child like a pro.

"This child is already wet," he complained.

"He's a baby."

"There are diapers in this house?" Maurick asked imperiously.

"In the nursery. In the same cabinet my mother used for us. Exactly where she kept them."

"Fine. Eat. I'll see to him."

Victor started to follow and found himself stared down. "I have changed swaddling on more children than I hope you'll ever live to see for far longer than any man on this continent. I suggest you sit down and finish your meal, human."

"I'm immortal, too, Maurick!" Victor called after the man's retreat. "I'll be here when you're dust!"

"Pity. I keep hoping there's been a mistake in that," the elf king whispered to the baby in a voice designed to carry.

Mychal bit her lips and rolled her eyes. "Make him a bowl, Victor. If we fill his mouth he won't talk. He was raised too well."

"You don't keep rat poison. I don't know what to put in it."

"I can hear you, human!" Maurick called from the nursery. "I shall have berries and natural maple syrup if you have any. If not, just coffee. Heavy cream. No sugar."

Victor rose to pour his father in law's foul drink. Logan watched as he stirred in a good bit of cream skimmed from atop the goat's milk-the coffee was nearly as pale as his own flesh.

It was obvious that the ritual had been performed before.

"Sire," he sneered as the other man came in.

Maurick sat and spooned a bite of the porridge thoughtfully. "This is good. Victor must have made it for you, Jamychal."

She stuck out her tongue.

"Yours would be edible, too, if you let the water come to a boil, then salted it, then added the yandru. And measuring helps."


	10. violence and vows

Maurick sighed, then plunged on. "I think I'd like an explanation," he said quietly. He held the baby in the crook of his arm, cuddling the child to him as he searched out elvish features in the tiny face.

Mychal looked up. "An explanation?" she asked. Her relationship with Victor was no secret. Hadn't been for some time. They were mutually dependent on each other for peace and sanity now. Their moments apart weren't long. It had impacted both of their lives.

Victor looked fearful for once in his life. Logan was almost amused by it. But he, too, was concerned and that tempered his enjoyment of his brother's disquietude.

"Someday you'll tell me how you were able to force a connection with my daughter, mortal. What gave you that power over her."

Mychal laughed. Victor swallowed hard, uncomfortable. "I just didn't want her to suffer alone. I wanted to help her-I just didn't know how."

"So you gave her your considerable strength. Which was very admirable. But I'm more concerned with the mechanics of it. She denied you and yet you were able to [force] the bond anyway. How?"

Mychal reached out to comb her fingers through Victor's hair. "It was the palm-to-palm connection," she told both men. "It was the desire to be together in a way deeper than flesh allows. The first time I linked to him was during our lovemaking. The simplest of handclasps," she murmured, rubbing her palm over her mate's. His eyes turned to hers. They seemed not so much to glow as to simmer. A sizzle made the hair on Logan's arm stand on end. Mychal's quiet voice continued. "The path is there. It's well-maintained and solid and true. I should have guessed that the power would recognize him and leap to connect."

"It is a physical connection, then? The placement of your hands on each other?"

She nodded and shrugged, still sore and tired from the birthing of her child. But excited and content with it. "Physical, yes, as we're all trained to focus on some physical thing in the beginning. But more so. When I linked with Victor the first time it was-"

"Unbelievable," the man before her interjected.

She smiled at him. "It was more than anything ever had been before. I believe it was because our hearts and bodies were in alignment with our minds. Our souls were open to the emotion between us, making the connection that much stronger. The years together have done nothing but strengthen that bond."

Victor smiled at her, trailing his fingertips down the length of her fingers. "It's not a promise spoken aloud. It's not a ritual laid down in some religion where right is right and wrong is wrong. It's not just great sex. It's something deeper. Older than time or dust or space. Deeper than black holes or ocean abysses. More basic than even the simplest cellular model."

Mychal looked at the man holding her sleeping child-her firstborn, the son she'd promised Victor. "The pathway was already there. The power in us both is used to the link and leapt to forge the connection when we both needed it."

Maurick nodded. "I've never seen it work that way before. Not so-violently."

Logan snickered. "Victor's involved. Violence is something that he exudes."

It was Mychal who bared her teeth and hissed at him. "Savage I'll accept," she scolded. "Not violent. Do not be angry with your brother for recognizing what is in him. Keeping it locked up and at bay obviously doesn't work. And why should it? Accept what is given to you and learn to use it. Hiding it, suppressing it, this will only see it erupt when the leash becomes worn thin."

Victor reached to her. "Mychal…"

She shook her head. "I can't, Victor. I love you…"


	11. epilogue: the fall

_**This series of conversations that never actually made it into the story as I've published it. I hated not to share them, though, because if you love the human side of Victor Creed & his elvish lady love I think you'd enjoy seeing them in action BEFORE they were easy with each other as they are in the story of the birth of their first…**_

"How old are you?"

"Thirty," she responded. He lifted his brows. "How old are you?"

"Almost two hundred."

She shrugged and turned her attention back to the sink. "You've got a nice, broad world view, then."

"Did you hear what I said?" he asked sharply.

A smile threatened when she turned around. "What do you want? I've got brothers older than you. How impressive did you think a couple of centuries was going to be?"

He frowned and shook his head. "I'm immortal."

"Good for you. What kind?"

"What do you mean, what kind? The kind that doesn't die!"

"Okay, but there's immortal, as in doesn't die of natural causes, but after a couple thousand years you start looking more revered. Then there's immortal as in, no physical alterations from the day you won your immortality-unchanging, non-aging immortality. Then there's the kind that can't be killed. For a multitude of reasons with varied descriptions to go along with it."

"I'm the last. Bullets, rockets, bombs, helo crashes, I've survived it all."

"Did you achieve adulthood at the normal rate of human children?"

He nodded.

"So did I. So, since we're both consenting adults, we're back to my original question-what do you want?"

"You."

She smiled now, the glow spreading across her face. It knotted in his gut and made him take a deep breath. "Good answer," she whispered before returning to her task.

They found the wolf in the bear trap. Mad with it.

As she reached forward he reared up, snapping jaws closing inches from her face.

Victor tore her away from the animal, then turned in a frenzy of his own.

"Don't hurt him!"

Victor looked at her as though she were crazy. "He's a wild animal! He's going to tear you to shreds!"

"He doesn't understand. There's fear buried under layers of pain and he's not himself. Look at him-he's skin and bones. You can see where he's started gnawing at the paw. Let me near him."

"He'll rip you apart. You can't help him. Give me your gun and get out of here."

"He's not that far gone, Victor. There's still life in him. Beauty and wildness and strength."

He shook his head as she slipped off her jacket. Her eyes were big when they met his.

"Will you help me?"

Now he had to nod. "How do you know he won't turn on you?"

"You haven't yet. Aren't you just as trapped, just as betrayed by what you thought you knew?"

Victor rolled his eyes at her even as he crouched to help her catch the beast's head in the heavy denim. "Am I a project?"

She grinned at him, her face intent only inches from his as he held the massive canine. "You're my fate. My gifts have simply been time's way of preparing for you."

He just shook his head again and lifted the wounded animal free of the steel jaws she manipulated. Then he watched as she unearthed the stake in one pull-what would have taken a muscular man some effort to drive into the earth-and slung the trap over her shoulder.

"Do the Indians have a name for your people?"

"My people are the Indians-at least one branch of them."

"Of course they are."

Her brow arched and she glanced over her shoulder as she led the way back to his car. "Do you disbelieve me?"

"Baby, I've seen too much to disbelieve anything."

"Good. Cause you're going to love this next bit."

"Is adamantium magnetic?" Mychal asked absently.

It took Victor a few minutes to clue into the fact that an answer was required. He was distracted by the sights and sounds and scents of her.

"I don't know. Why?"

"I was just thinking...if you really wanted to trap your brother and keep him somewhere you could lure him wherever you wanted him and then activate a big electromagnet."

Victor made a sucking noise, then chuckled. "Just suck him in, right?"

Mychal shrugged.

"And you have enough wits left to think about these things in my bed?"

She laughed. "It just came to me."

"Thoughts about my brother came to you while you were in _my_ bed?" he teased.

Another shrug was his answer, followed by her shriek as he flipped her and trapped her wrists in his claws. "Victor!" she yelped. "I was only trying to help! I'm on your side, remember?" she laughed as his mouth fastened at the base of her neck.

He interrupted his schnuffling noises to shoot back, "I'm a bad guy, remember?"

Their sparring was forgotten as he sank his lips into hers, drinking of her again. His body crushed hers into the mattress while he made love to her with just his mouth, keeping her arms trapped outflung. His powerful muscles quivered again and again as he felt her cries and the urgings of her body beneath him. Still, it was a long time before he gave in to what they both wanted, wrapped her closer to him, and sank into her warmth.

Their child was created that night.

_**Help me with the story of their initial meeting and courtship?**_

_**What makes a man rough in his treatment of others take notice of what at first appears to be a fragile spirit?**_

_**How does one of the Firstborn create a kinship with one whose mission is violence?**_

_**Let me know what you come up with…**_


End file.
